


Down in the dungeon

by ayjee



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7695874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayjee/pseuds/ayjee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erimond gets a roommate – in Skyhold’s jail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down in the dungeon

Samson had never been good-looking to begin with, but the past year had taken a cruel toll on him. That, and his defeat at the hands of the Inquisition, Livius supposed. Peeking through the bars of his cell, he watched the ridiculous procession approach: Samson in chains, head hung low over the once bright red lyrium shard, and framed by inquisition soldiers. In that moment, the man looked every bit like the beggar Corypheus had no doubt picked off Kirkwall’s sewers.

“General,” Livius called. “Fancy meeting you here.” The soldiers frowned at the interruption, but it was Samson’s eyes, feverish and bloodshot, that had him recoil.

Samson seemed unfazed by his presence. “Livius.” His voice had not changed; Marcher slur, plebeian as ever. “Reckoned you’d be dead by now.”

“That’s lord Erimond to you,” Livius snapped. And before he could help himself: “Old Gods, you look like death.”

The soldiers burst into laughter; Samson paid them no heed and looked him square in the eye. “Aye, ‘cause you look so fine yourself. When’s the last time you had a shave, m'lord? A bath?”

“That’s enough,” one of the soldiers barked, and he shoved Samson onward. The man grunted, but complied, and Livius soon lost sight of them. Sound travelled well in the dungeon though, in spite of the waterfall’s roar. Keys in the lock, door creaking open, a muted thump followed by the scrape of metal against stone. More fits of laughter. The door creaking again, then closing with a loud clatter. Livius performed a prudent retreat as the soldiers passed his cell on their way out of the dungeons.

“It’s not so bad,” he called after a few minutes. “A bit on the cold and damp side, of course, but I’m sure you’ve seen worse, haven’t you Samson?”

“Maker, just shut up already!”

He did. For a grand total of two minutes. Until curiosity got the better of him and he asked, a pityful note in his voice, “The Master?”

“What about him?”

Livius gave a huff of impatience. “Where is he now?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Samson mumbled. Livius could _feel_ his shrug all the way from his cell. “I woke up in the prisoners carriage.”

“Then there’s still hope,” Livius declared. Corypheus would return and crush the heathens. First the inquisition, then half of Thedas if need be. He, Livius, would stand proud at His side, and marvel at His power. It would be beautiful.

“You brainless twat,” was Samson’s only reply.


End file.
